


body

by Anonymous



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fuckboy!Zuko, Hustlers!AU, Stripper!Katara
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:07:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22195279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “What makes you think I’m scamming anybody?” Katara practically screams.Zuko pins her with a glare. “Please enlighten me on how you managed to swap out your ‘Guccy’ purses with this season’s Chanel.”Where hustling is the only way to survive, and Katara isn’t accepting anything less than a win. Hustlers!AU
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28
Collections: Anonymous





	body

She’s tired. 

“I will fucking _cut_ you if you get any closer,” Katara bites out, smile still remaining sweet as ever. “Will that be all for your table today?” She asks, voice saccharine, eyes deadly. The boys at the table forget to breathe, choking out a noise of resignation. She sends a tight lipped grin their way, before _accidentally_ digging her shoe into one guy’s boot, the one doing the absolute most the whole night. Looking like a brother straight out of Kappa Kappa Feta Cheese, he’s been trying his hardest to slip her his number, even resorting to screaming out the digits every time she came back with biscuits. Maybe she could _accidentally_ castrate him too, if only her assignment wasn’t due at 11:59 pm that day. 

This day really couldn’t get any worse, and she pleaded with the universe for a second of reprieve. 

“Fuck!” She yelped, rubbing at your forehead in pain. “Well, what was _that_ for?” She tugged at Toph’s extensions. She immediately ducked before the younger girl could rip off her fake lashes in public. Frankly, Katara wasn’t mentally stable enough to be scalped. “Not today, whore!” 

Toph laughs maniacally. “Please, taking it off would _help_ you at this point. Your makeup looks like Lady Gaga’s makeup artist finished a Haus Laboratories trial run on you.” 

Her gasp was audible in the midst of the cafe. “How _could_ you?” She exclaimed, thoroughly chastised. “I am suffering through heartbreak, give me a day off!” 

“You don’t deserve any vacation days if you’re pairing FU$$Y with that patchy complexion. That’s sacrilegious. Primer exists for a _reason_ dumbass,” Toph sighs. She always does this when she’s around Katara. “You make me so fucking _mad_ it’s actually ridiculous. Like ‘take out this Aliexpress clip-in hair piece and strangle you with it’ type of mad.” 

“Ma’am, you can’t even see what I look like!” 

Toph sighs. “I just know.” 

Katara’s sniffling because she’s dramatic. “Don’t take it out on me just because some guy on Tinder said your hairline was built like one of Doja Cat’s wigs!” She sure did talk a lot of shit for someone who doesn’t know how to fight. 

Toph takes a deep breath before she lost her mind and spiraled and tased Katara to make this whole situation even. “It’s your fault at this point!” She proclaims, unaffected by her whimpers. “It’s on you, bitch. You’re the one that keeps dating weird rich guys to scam their dads. You deserved that court order.” 

“Why are you being so _cruel_ ?” Katara takes a sip of her matcha lemonade in defeat, the shame palpable. “How was I supposed to know Haru’s dad _and_ Seeking Arrangements would pull together a very convincing lawsuit?” 

“What the fuck do you want then? Hmm? A pat on the back? A thumbs up? A banner that says ‘congrats on getting banned from nearly every dating and mobile cash app?’ Or how about ‘thanks for getting banned from even _Target_ ?’” She sends you an incredulous look. “Like really bitch? Even Target? Even _fucking_ Target? You just had to steal $2,000 from one of Target’s primary investors? I can’t even buy dryer sheets in peace now because I went with you that _one_ time. You realize how traumatic it is to get tackled by Target security?” 

“Ok, in all fairness-,” 

“No, bitch! You don’t get to make fucking excuses! No ‘in all fairness’ bullshit. Even in my nightmares, all I can imagine are red polos, khakis, and the ‘5% off when you use your RedCard’ sign!” 

She holds Toph’s tiny hands in between her clammy ones. “How could I ever make this up to you?” 

She rips them out of Katara’s grasp. “Handle my therapist’s copay for the next year.” 

Katara knew she should’ve called someone else to accompany her to court today. It really wasn’t her fault that her car got repossessed. She loved Toph, honest to God. She was the love of Katara’s life, the person who kept her sane. The one Katara could call in the middle of the night and sing Cheetah Girls songs to. Toph would finish the lyrics instead of immediately calling the police to do a welfare check on her. Yet, she really didn’t _need_ her signature tough love. Not when she was this vulnerable. Not when she barely survived the Mercury retrograde. Shit has hit the fan. She swore everything was going wrong in her life because she used Sokka’s conditioner without asking. And not the fact that she regularly scammed old men looking for sugar babies. 

It wasn’t her fault, really. And she swore she did this in the name of feminism. It’s on them for being so fucking stupid and thinking a 20 year old college girl would give up her life to be at an old man’s beck and call on their ranch in the middle of Montana. So _maybe_ Gerald didn’t deserve to lose $10,000 after giving her access to his bank account, but c’mon! The world shouldn’t have made it so _easy_. 

Of course, Katara knew better. Until the real world hit, she was all goody two shoes, shoving positivity and philanthropy up people’s asses. Once upon a time, she was a straight A student with a scholarship to the most prestigious college in Ba Sing Se. _Med school, med school, med school_ . She would remind herself, chanting it so often her grandma began praying her body would rebuke whatever spirit was possessing her. She refused to be stuck at home, stuck feeling like the poor girl that didn’t know her place. Too loud, too proud, she was _too fucking much_. Nothing felt right, like she could never feel comfortable just existing as herself. Like everyone was staring, waiting for her to finally just give up. 

Her family moved in with her Gran Gran after her mother passed away. Her dad was distraught and overwhelmed, barely registering the tears Sokka and Katara shed the day he left them, too. He took on a new role in his environmental non profit, ensuring he rarely stayed in one place too long. No amount of FaceTime calls and scraped together checks could replace the real deal, but as Katara learns, beggars can't be choosers. Their lives were comfortable with Pakku’s secured tenure at a local university, and it meant they were able to go to high school in a nice area with rich bitches. 

“I’m going to rob him,” Sokka whisper screamed in Katara’s ear as a kid decked out completely in [real] Balenciaga passed their way. Their nostrils were then invaded with the scent of _intergenerational wealth_. Admittedly, it was nice. 

It was entirely _different_ from what they were used to. Dwindling supplies, torn up textbooks, teachers barely qualified. Kids that looked like them never were meant to have a fair chance. Suddenly, they were flooded with teachers who cared, kids who competed over fucking history grades, and faculty that sounded old and wise and weren’t hotboxing in their car in the morning to get through the day. They were barely keeping up with their classmates, who breezed through calculus and Latin and whatever else rich people studied. 

They met Toph and Aang, both who weren’t as occupied with their studies as they were with their martial arts tournaments. It was a nice break from how intense their classes usually were, kids nearly fighting to the death to scream the right answer at a teacher who did _not_ get paid enough to have to separate kids over whether or not Hamlet fucked his mom. For what she lacked in tutors and brand name clothes and wealthy parents that could pay their way into universities, she made up for in her undeniable intellect. She welcomed the snarls and disbelief as she worked her way to becoming valedictorian. 

Zuko, the heir apparent to Phoenix Corp, the one company that monopolized the city, was her first friend. She ignored the warnings about how much of a dick he was. She was convinced he was sweet, after he returned her necklace after the big, bad first day where people asked what self tanner she used, and she could only respond with “Um, no. I’m just ethnic.” The clasp had come undone, and she couldn’t help but laugh at him shyly handing over the jewelry and awkwardly stumbling away. “Fucking nerd,” she whispered, the smile growing on her face. They became friends of sorts. They shared notes, texted each other before exams with pictures of Baby Yoda and Wendy Williams. 

But then, he just _had_ to fight her over who was getting the valedictorian spot, because apparently it’s all about his honor and going to the best school in the nation, and then just _had_ to sabotage her and Aang’s biology senior project, and then she just _had_ to just rear end his Tesla in the parking lot. 

“Peasant,” he sneered as though Katara could possibly be afraid of Prince Pouty. Since their first encounter, he’s turned into quite the douche shit. At least he had good hair to make up for the personality. Now indoctrinated with all the greatness of his father’s company and whatever wealthy people said to feel good about their tax breaks, his nose was perpetually in the air. 

“Penis cheese,” she quipped, folding her arms indignantly against her chest. Their principal looked between the two kids before declaring a tie, much to their dismay. 

Their relationship hasn’t quite recovered, despite her friends’ eventual acceptance of Zuko. Though Katara, as fucking stubborn as she was, made it a point to ignore his presence at group outings. Apparently his “better person” change happened after he accidentally packed a bowl and tripped so hard before going to the movies, an ambulance had to escort him out of the local theater. He was essentially banished from his family, his father refusing to even acknowledge his existence when reporters would pry. Last she had heard of him when she graduated, he was living with a relative. 

She figured, the weird high school life she had would be left behind when she got to college. No more needing to be the group mom, no more needing to be valedictorian, no more needing to be _anything_. She wax stripped her pussy and was determined to go girls gone wild. 

That was, until Pakku died. Soon after, ends were barely being met. Gran Gran couldn’t work, so Sokka withdrew from his classes and then Katara was calling the university before the first day and took an emergency leave of absence. She figured, the first two years didn’t matter anyways because everyone was just taking general electives. With a barely functioning car and the local community college 40 minutes away, she took online classes instead. That way, at least she could do full time at The Jasmine Dragon. Iroh had generously offered her a job on the condition she did part time and kept up with her studies. He begrudgingly switched her to full time after her incessant pleading. It did break his heart whenever he sees her barely keeping her eyes open as she types furiously away at a barely functioning laptop. 

“Move, I’m charging my Phix,” Zuko grumbled, hand raking through knots in his hair. His nighttime 15 minute nap had come to a close, and any semblance of peace Katara thought she had vanished. Without the help of his father, and the life altering process of being cut off as a born and bred trust fund baby, Zuko was roped into working at his uncle’s tea shop, too. He remembered his father trying to convince Iroh it was a bad idea. 

“The shop is going to be right fucking next to a _strip club_!” Ozai stared incredulously at Iroh. 

“And?” Iroh challenged, eyebrows raised defiantly. 

Ozai sighed. “Unless you have a complementary viagra with every cup, I really don’t think your little _business venture_ is sustainable,” he mutters. 

“I keep eating cereal instead of dealing with my problems,” Zuko admits, furiously texting before deleting messages on his phone. He had this habit of speaking and thinking Katara cared about what he had to say. Did she ask? No. But was he going to moan and groan about his life story during every shift? You bet. 

“That’s why the toilet was clogged. Your fucking fiber shits.” 

Zuko stared her down. “Eat my ass.” 

“In your dreams,” Katara heartily replies, too entirely focused on typing out her essay and finding synonyms for “hegemony” because she’s already used it 32 times. Her insults have a lot less bite as they’ve become unwilling coworkers. Despite intentionally tripping him in the early days of her tea making career just to see him launch into an emo tirade about the universe being against him and some shit, now she would like to think she was more _indifferent_ than anything else. Readmittance applications to her university were sooner rather than later, and she couldn’t afford to let her community college GPA slip up. 

An alarm on her phone goes off, and she’s suddenly unplugging her laptop charger from the wall, throwing her shit haphazardly into her backpack. She slips an abnormally large duffle bag over her shoulder, wobbling with the added weight. 

“Where have you been disappearing off to?” Zuko questions. Not that he cares. Not that he misses their banter when they’re both working the night shift. Nope. He definitely hasn’t kept count of the change 6 months ago. Not at all. 

“A friends’,” Katara breathlessly admits, before rushing out the door. 

She’s never going to get used to this. The rush to get your makeup done in 20 minutes or less, lest you be charged for not knowing how to blend your damn contour with a quickness. The strappy heels that she struggled to balance in, even though they were _training shoes_. The men she wished she could stab. They leered, they whooped and hollered after getting their way. They were business men with wives and children waiting at home, while they’re calling her a slut without any hesitation, whispering their disgusting, porn laden fantasies in her ear as she writhed in their laps. 

_Ew_ she thought, glancing at her watch. She huffed, _run the clock not the cock_ she reminded herself. Suki’s wise words. 

It started off as bartending. Nyla’s Tavern was _the_ club, rich kids and their stockbroker dads alike constantly squeezing in to feel alive, even for just a night. Hot girls, alcohol flowing, and unobstructed sin. Katara figured, tips would be better bartending nights than at the sleepy Jasmine Dragon. Don’t get her wrong, she’s forever grateful for Iroh. But she couldn’t help but be drawn the bustle and life that was barely contained in Nyla’s walls. Scamming sugar daddies wasn’t sustainable, so she dropped off her resume. She stopped working nights at the tea shop, much to Iroh’s relief, and would rush over to the club instead. Drunk men liked bothering pretty girls, which was why she was cleaning up as Nyla’s most catcalled bartender. 

“You really know how to work these guys,” June remarks as though it was a fact of life, a simple observation. “A wink here, a little pout there.” She smirks, sizing Katara up and down. “You know how to dance?” The woman was gorgeous, absolutely lethal. Her main stage performances practically run the club with how much money she was feeding into its bloodstream. Absolutely in control, pole or not. 

Katara beams. “A little.” 

She’s sore every day, bruises in places she didn’t know she could get bruises. “I don’t think I have the range for this,” she sighs in defeat. The tabletop move June was trying to teach her hurt the fuck out of her vagina. “My body isn’t built for this life!” 

June rolls her eyes, lips set in a tight line. She flicks a flawlessly straightened piece of hair out her eyes, her body already clad in the outfit of the night. Strappy, pushing and pulling at all parts of her flawless body. “Don’t care, force it into submission. What are you doing tonight?” 

“Making. Fucking. Money,” Katara emphasizes, a determined look on her face. 

“This pussy the kitchen!” Katara yelps. Suki pins her with a confused look, pinching her nose. Lap dance practice is never fun with Suki. 

“Not smelling like fish sauce it isn’t.”

“Hey!” Katara protests. 

Suki smiles tersely. “If you can’t come up with something spontaneously sexy to say, just send some “fuck me” looks. Look back at him, make him want it, want you. But keep it slow, steady, think like a hot lion turtle.” 

“Oh my god,” Katara just shakes her head, applying another layer of gloss. The girls around her, in the few months she’s been working, felt like family already. As the unofficial nurse of the girls, Katara made sure to stock up on bandages and ointments for the less glamorous reality of bruises and cuts when the night was over. She helped Ty Lee when she thought she lost her tampon inside her cooch, and practiced breathing exercises with Asami, a perpetual vomiter when she got the slightest bit nervous. 

It could be worse. Hama, the club mother, flits around doing odd jobs here and there, baking goods for the girls. The bodyguards do their jobs, June makes sure of it, but there’s still the damn _cover charge_. Even if Katara was making more money than she was bartending, she couldn’t help feeling robbed. 

Ty Lee sighs, frustrated when she looks at the text on her phone. “Suki, your boyfriend’s crying in the club, again.” Suki mumbles a few curses, before she throws on one of Sokka’s old lacrosse hoodies to cover up her revealing ensemble. Katara simply ducked out of sight, the girls circling around her to hide her. 

Sokka was still convinced Katara was just bartending, always picking her up after his night classes. While she made it a point for him to _always wait outside_ , that didn’t keep Suki from noticing him. She’d be the one to leave the fastest, even begging Katara to take her time at the end of the night so she could hold a conversation with the guy. He quickly fell head over stripper heels for no one other the daytime police academy trainee, night time stripper. He gets it, money’s tight. He’s been so hungry to the point where, in a moment of weakness, he’s even considered taking a bite out of Katara’s Too Faced Chocolate Soleil Bronzer. He understands. It doesn’t mean he can’t miss Suki. 

“Everyone here has a mustache and smells vaguely of baby wipes,” Sokka remarks, face blanching until Suki arrives. 

“Babe, I already told you, please don’t shit your feelings at my workplace. We can talk when I get home,” Suki’s brows are drawn together in concern, lips pursing. 

Sokka couldn’t help himself. He grasps at her, pulling her close. “I just missed you,” pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

“Can’t believe you’re getting all soft at a strip club,” She complains, letting herself sink into the embrace. 

Ty Lee reports back from her Nancy Drew investigation of the biweekly _Sokka_ _Invasions_ , and swoons. “He’s _so so so_ sweet to her! My last man kept getting jealous. But glad I have a boyfriend who’s always with me now!” Her eyes are bright as she pulls out a sparkly pink dildo from her Fendi bag. 

June cracks a smile. “Love that for you.” 

Soon enough, June and Katara were the club’s unstoppable duo, the most requested performers for private shows. The Painted Lady and The Hunter were making more money than they knew what to do with. Katara was finishing up the last leg of classes, chipping away at Gran Gran’s debt, and secretly saving up the tuition money for Sokka to go back to school. For one blissful year, everything seemed like it would be alright. 

“What’s got you fucked up?” Katara questions. Zuko was scowling more than usual. His face heats up, embarrassed. No one was in the shop, so he takes a hit from his pen, purposely blowing the smoke in Katara’s face. She petulantly coughs louder than necessary. 

“Don’t even get me started,” He pleads. They weren’t friends, they were just coworkers who occasionally talked while she did her school work and he watched shoe unboxing videos. He doesn’t need to vulnerability vomit to her, but he kind of wants to. 

Katara closes her eyes, brows furrowed. “Let me guess, you got in a fight with Mai?” 

Zuko whips his head around. “How’d you know-”

“Zuko, you’re always ranting to yourself because you think I’m not listening, and I listen because I’m nosy. Now spill.” 

He slumps his head on the counter, looking defeated. “Isn’t love supposed to be complicated? And make you feel, I don’t know. Always at war with yourself? Isn’t it supposed to be passionate and keep you on your toes?” He isn’t quite sure who he’s trying to convince. Himself or Katara. 

Katara tries to wrack her brain, say something comforting. But she’s fucking tired. “Honestly, I think if you’re feeling overwhelmed, it’s not fair to either of you guys to stay in the situation. Maybe taking a break would be the best route?” She’s met Mai, hell she really likes Mai. She throws knives for Spirits’ sake. She’s badass, entirely too good for Zuko. But when they’re around each other, it’s always questioning the relationship, always assuming someone’s cheating on someone. Always drama, always chaos, always fighting. Katara keeps her distance when Mai visits the shop, not wanting her to think anything was going when she was alone with Zuko. 

Zuko scoffs. “What good would a fucking break do?” 

Mai gladly welcomes the break idea. 

**Katara:** This is for Zuko you big fat white nasty smelling fat bitch why you took me off the motherfucking schedule with your trifling dirty white racist ass big fat bitch oompa loompa body ass bitch I’m coming up there and I’m gon beat the fuck out of you bitch. 

Zuko blearly stares at his phone, a groan coming from next to him. He kisses Jin on the cheek, she rolls onto her side, looking cozy in his shirt. The break was treating him well, he couldn’t lie. 

**Zuko:** What. 

**Katara:** Learn how to read, bitch. You fucked up next week’s schedule!! And you’re late. 

**Zuko:** Ok. 

Zuko was the worst at texting, especially when Katara sends her wack ass messages. So while he’s slipping a hand under Jin’s top to grasp at her breast, and trying to fall asleep again, Katara had other ideas. She does the most logical thing, of course, and is banging at his door, screeching about opening up the shop for the day. He opens up to see her glaring at him, and he’s scowling back with equal intensity. She’s the first to break away her gaze, looking at his shirtless chest and darting her gaze to the girl on his bed. “You whore!” She yelps, poking him as hard as she could in the man tiddie. 

“My tit!” Bring his hand up to protect his chest, he pointedly glares daggers through his mussed hair. For someone so petite, Katara was all might. “I’ll open up the shop, give me a few minutes damn!” 

She narrows her eyes at him. “I’m DMing Mai right this instant that you’re cheating on her, you slut!” 

Jin stirs from her slumber. “You have a girlfriend?” She squeaks out, pulling the covers to conceal her watering eyes. 

“Katara! Oh my _fucking_ god. Hallway. Please.” He pushes with unnatural strength, slamming his door with as much anger as he could muster, lest he strangle Katara with her braids. 

“What.” She’s crossing her arms across her chest. 

Zuko exhales a frustrated breath. “We took a break like _you_ suggested!” 

Katara didn’t look convinced. “Don’t care, girl code. Mai was on her Finsta ranting about how much she missed you and your _golden orbs_ while you’re fucking some other girl!” 

“She lets you follow her Finsta? Huh, I didn’t think you guys were close like that.” Zuko contemplates the idea of them being friends, looking off into the distance as though trying to figure out a complex equation. “Whatever, it’s a break! So eat shit!” Zuko reaches clumsily for her phone. 

“If it’s a break, then why are you so nervous huh? Get your racoon pussy smelling hands away from me!” The struggle ends with Zuko on top of her. While she’s trying to ignore the feel of the muscles he’s been carefully concealing behind his oversized hoodies, she claws at him. 

“Did you just bite me!?” 

Katara wipes at her mouth when Zuko crawls away, only fear in his eyes. “That’s right. See, when you do clownery, the clown comes back to bite! Literally!” In a blink of an eye, Zuko is at your feet, bowing down to her. 

“Please, Katara. You know how much Mai likes her knives, and how much I don’t have health insurance. Please, I’ll do anything.” 

“You’re my bitch now,” Katara’s smug, and he hates it. 

**Katara** : Don’t even call the police today cause I’m going to come up there unexpected and wait on your motherfucking ass bitch I’m coming to beat the fuck out of you bitch cause you did that on purpose! 

**Zuko:** I’m going to block your number. 

Katara rolls her eyes, slamming her phone down on the counter. She’s mad, first because Zuko never gets her references. Second, she was going to be late to Nyla’s if Zuko didn’t wake his ass up and take over for the night. 

It was a bad day. She’s an hour later than she anticipated, so her fucking manager gets to eat up a larger cover charge from her. She cut a lap dance short when she realized she had forgotten to submit her OChem homework in time, and turned it in 15 minutes after the deadline, losing 50% of the grade. On top of all of that, she now had to stay back an hour later than she anticipated. Sokka couldn’t wait for her, needing to get back home to make sure Gran Gran got to bed safely. She’s pacing back and forth in the dressing rooms, stripper bag already neatly packed as she waited patiently for the Uber that was going to take her to the closest bus station, where she prayed she didn’t get jumped. She couldn’t afford an Uber all the way home. 

“ _He’s back!_ ” Hama whispers in Katara’s ear. Usually the one to close up the club, Hama was letting it stay open a little longer to thoroughly “clean the poles.” Not because she was worried for Katara, no of course not. It was a tamer night (read: empty) so she sent bodyguard Chit Sang home to tend to his girlfriend’s fever. She could handle herself. But Katara just _had_ to attract a stalker didn’t she? 

Katara groaned. _Not you_. Not Jet. Her high school fling that went to the rival school. She thought she finally got rid of him after he joined the army. He was everything military recruiters were attracted to: he had anger issues and a 1.9 GPA. Alas, Katara was working the night his army buddies and him decided that they could best protect the nation by going to a strip club. Even behind her intricate makeup, recognition flashed in his eyes, and he had been waiting for a chance to talk to her ever since. Usually Chit Sang was there to fend him off, but it was a bad day. 

“Katara, I swear to Agni I will take my flaking ass skin and dump it in your oolong if you keep cockblocking me!” Katara could already imagine how red in the face Zuko was, even over the phone. She always had perfect timing. 

“First of all, ew. We’re not close like that. Second of all, you owe me one! Third of all, it’s not my fault you’re a manwhore!” She sent Hama an apologetic smile. “Get over here now!” 

Zuko sheepishly grinned, all teeth at Song, who rezipped her jeans and waved half heartedly before shutting the door. Why did Fashion Nova jeans have to make every girl’s ass look fantastic? “I still don’t know what the fuck is going on!” He’s yelling at this point. 

“Pretend to be my mans and pick me up from Nyla’s! Keep up! See you in 5.” 

_Finally_ , he could flex his acting chops from his Theater 1 class, before his dad had cut him off and he couldn’t afford tuition. “Let’s go, babe,” He kissed Katara on the head, before slapping her on the ass. He made it a point to scowl at Jet as they took their leave. Her ass was perfectly snug against his front, leading the way to Iroh’s Honda Civic. He misses his Tesla. 

While she was all coy smiles and blushing cheeks when Zuko had swooped in to be her knight in shining armor, she was scratching at his good eye when they were buckled in. “Did you really need to slap my ass? Was that completely necessary?” 

Zuko has a shit eating grin on his face. “I’ll take that as a ‘thank you.’ I was just committed to the role.” 

Katara huffs. He’s never really seen her like this, hair and makeup done to the nines. He thinks he likes her when she’s barefaced, wide eyes unobstructed by fluttering falsies, cheeks naturally flushed. She’s stunning either way. He tamps down on that feeling because she was entirely _not an option_. 

“Up to your old ways again?” he questions tentatively, voice wavering. 

“What makes you think I’m scamming anybody?” Katara practically screams. 

Zuko pins her with a glare. “Please enlighten me on how you managed to swap out your ‘Guccy’ purses with this season’s Chanel.”

“I forget that rich people can _smell_ poor,” Katara replied, sounding almost chastised. She clutches the bag with an even tighter grip. 

Zuko does the _thing_ hot guys do when they reverse. His arm is swung across the back of Katara’s seat, and she wants to hit him. This was dangerous territory for her pussy. 

“So, who’s the beau?” Zuko’s eyebrows are raised, glancing over to see Katara staring distractedly out the window. 

She sighs. “I hate to say it, I don’t know who this man is.” 

Zuko feels like he’s going to get heartburn. “I will crash this car into the curb if you don’t tell me.” 

“I take pride in distressing you.” Zuko has the courtesy to smile the slightest. “Just some loser I dated in high school. Thinks he’s saving the world or some shit by joining the military.” She makes a gagging noise. “Please, I’m braver than the US Marines for plucking one of Suki’s ingrown hairs. He just recognized me, and has been creeping for a few weeks now.” 

Zuko nods. “So...you work at Nyla’s now?” 

“Yup,” Katara pretends not to see his blush. “You can judge me all you want, but it pays the bills and my online stress shopping.” 

“I’m not judging!” He throws up both hands at a stop light. “I swear!” Katara just rolls her eyes. “I think it’s really impressive, the stamina you need. I barely can climb a flight of stairs without being out of breath.” He exhales a breath of relief when she chuckles. “Why do you always assume the worst of me?” Zuko’s tone is light, but he couldn’t help but poke at one of his sore spots. Even if he’s all emo, cool guy, he can’t help having _feelings_. He never missed the way Katara pointedly ignored his presence nearly every moment with their shared friend group back in high school. Hell, she even drove herself to prom instead of taking the party bus with them because it was his idea. He could never wrap his head around what he did wrong. 

She’s angry. She thinks maybe because it’s 2 am and she’s slept a total of 4 hours in the last 4 days, but she’s going to blame it on Zuko pestering her with the incessant questions. “Maybe because you _are_ the worst? Ever considered that?” 

He runs his free hand through his hair. Of course he drives with only one hand. Hot boy things. 

“It’s just...one minute we were friends. And I feel like the next you were crashing my car and we just hated each other.” He still remembers how nervous she looked that first day. Everyone couldn’t help but gossip about the new girl. How uncomfortable she looked, her shoes not being brand name. He still remembers how she had all but nervously blurted out the whole backstory behind her mother’s necklace when he returned it, how much she missed her mom. He can still remember the fierce hug she gave him a few days after that, after he revealed how much he missed his mom, too. Even if they had barely known each other, he just felt like he could be himself around her. Like she understood how shitty it felt to feel like an outcast. Because no one really understood him, no one understood him like she had. 

Katara impatiently taps her pointy acrylics on the car window, thinking the noises would calm her. She still felt the fire burning in her, the anger she almost couldn’t contain. “Maybe you’ve been inhaling too much of your vape juice to remember, but it’s _you_ who turned on _me_ . I was the one who let you into my life. I was the one who gave you a fucking _family_ when your snooty friends wouldn’t even look you in the eye anymore.” 

“I get it. I was messy. I wasn’t in my right mind because I felt all this pressure from my dad to be like him. To be something I could never fucking be. And I could never live up to his image of me. I took all my anger out on you, and I’m sorry. I wish I could turn back time and stop myself from being a dick. But I can’t. I can only do my best now, and I will.” She looks up at him, shocked to say the least. He felt like everything he’s wanted to say to her, everything that constantly flooded his mind at the sight of her he finally let out. 

He stops the car, and they stare at each other wordlessly. “You remember where I live?” Katara is incredulous. 

“We used to carpool!” Zuko says it as though it’s a fact of life. 

“So you just remember everybody’s addresses from the ninth grade?” Katara teases. 

“You probably don’t remember me sitting there, with how loudly you played Ariana Grande every time I entered the car.” 

Her smile was contagious. “Probably.” She’s about to unlock the door, when she whips around and stares at him with those impossibly large eyes. “You know I don’t think you’re the worst, right? I just...say a lot of things I don’t mean when I’m angry. And I’m sorry, too. For being impossible, at pretty much all times. I know you’re different, now. It’s hard for me, because for the longest time it was just easy to hate you, you know? It was easier to hang on to how cruel you were. It meant I didn’t have to trust you again, because that trust could always be broken again and again. My heart just can’t handle that.” She gives him a small wave after she closes his car door. 

He feels lighter. Things weren’t great between them, but he’d like to think it was a step in the right direction. “Goodbye, Katara the scammer.” 

“Drive safely, Zuko the ass crust.” 

**Author's Note:**

> this is for zuko my forever crush!!!! anyways hehe I made him a mean hypebeast!!! katara starts scamming some more soon when I finish this shit i hope you enjoyed!!! I also!!!! maybe used to scam sugar daddies to pay for textbooks !!! 🧠🧠 my mind sometimes 
> 
> Thank u for reading pls leave a comment if u get the chance 🥺


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